


Hiding in Plain Sight

by liliaeth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creeper Peter Hale, Gen, Post-Canon, True Alpha Scott McCall, past malia hale/scott mccall, scott mccall deserves nice things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliaeth/pseuds/liliaeth
Summary: Peter and Scott have to work together and end up trapped in a room with nothing to do but wait. While trapped they are forced to talk, and both of them have plenty to talk about. Even Peter can't avoid some harsh truths.





	Hiding in Plain Sight

The auction was taking place in a mansion larger than any Scott had seen in his life, including the Argent estate in Gévaudan. All around him was a kind of luxury that Scott couldn’t have imagined even a year ago.  Thankfully, he was supposed to play Peter’s assistant, so his discomfort at the surroundings wouldn’t attract all that much attention.

The stage at the front of the hall was mostly bare, with minimal furnishing, keeping people’s attention on the podium in the center of it.

Unlike the smaller auctions, the seating for the buyers wasn’t just a bunch of uncomfortable plastic chairs. Instead, the selection of handpicked buyers was placed around a series of small tables, allowing them a chance to schmooze with one another.

He had no idea how he’d ended up here – locked in a roleplay with the last man any sane person would’ve taken along.  But then again, sometimes you worked with the people you _had_ to, rather than the ones you _wanted_ to. He took a deep breath, anchored on himself, and calmed his heartbeat.

Be your own anchor, he reminded himself, before checking up with what Peter was doing.

Peter was talking to one of the other prospective buyers, some South African collector of rare ‘pets’. They’d gone after the man’s operations over in Pretoria, saving at least three shifters, a kitsune, and a hellhound from his collection.

If Peter really wanted to screw Scott over, all he had to do was tell the man just who Scott was, and what he was.  Based on where they were, there’d be no way for Scott to get out without bringing down the entire mission. And Peter knew it, mocking Scott with every knowing smile.

That smile always reminded Scott of his own father. Both Peter and Rafael gave him the feeling that they never meant those smiles or their words or anything, really -- what was done was only being done to get him to do what they wanted him to do. So, instead of trust, Scott had to measure out every word that came from their lips. Peter knew that Scott would be analyzing every motion for signs of what Peter really wanted, and he thought it was funny. That was one thing the werewolf never understood. He thought this was new to Scott; it wasn't.

Peter hadn’t kept his mouth shut during the auction, playing up his role as the bored millionaire out to buy a pet, an ancient artifact, or some fancy new form of wolfsbane. He treated Scott like a simpleton too stupid to put his feet in front of another, and enjoyed the pretense of ordering him about. All the while, he knew that any word Scott said back would ruin their cover – a cover that meant a lot more to Scott than it did to Peter.

“How much do you think they’d pay for a true Alpha?” Peter whispered over a brandy, when he knew their guest wasn’t listening. “Think it’d be more or less than they were willing to hand over for that rare strain of wolfsbane you’re after?”

Scott was proud of himself for not crushing the tablet in his hands.

It’s just… Peter knew too much for them to just take him for granted.  The former Alpha could be so damn useful that it made it hard to just kick him out of the Pack and ignore him for once and for all. No matter _how_ much he grated on Scott’s nerves. Right now, everything else aside, there was no way they could have gotten in without Peter’s reputation as a millionaire, or the Hale family connections.

This wasn’t the first auction they’d interfered with. It definitely wasn’t the first time Scott had had to pretend he had nothing but air between his ears.

It was just the first time since Mexico that he was stuck with Peter.

Being here with the other wolf now, Scott ached at the phantom pain of Peter's teeth in his side.  He remembered the cold sensation of fear when his senses went haywire, when he started sleepwalking and waking up in strange places, and, worst of all, when he was scared of what he might _do_. When he worried that maybe the next time he’d wake up with blood on his claws and the uncertain knowledge that this time, he really _had_ killed someone

He hadn’t been able to describe it then: Peter’s presence in his mind. He’d tried to distract himself by focusing on Allison, on lacrosse, on the few things in his life that still made him still feel human, anything other than the push inside of him that told him to be a good boy and do what his Alpha told him to.

Sometimes, when he’d woken up in the middle of the night, he’d had the taste of blood lingering in his mouth from dreams of hunting, chasing, and bringing down his prey. For a moment, he would wonder if it had been real. He’d stare at his claws, and feel the fangs in his mouth. He’d grip his sheets and keep thinking to himself it was just a dream.

He’d feel the weight of those dreams for the rest of the day. He’d snarl at a dog he met on the street, or his mouth would water when he saw a rabbit running out in front of him in the woods. He didn’t let it influence his actions; it wasn’t like he lost control. But there was always this itch underneath his skin, that made him feel like he was wearing a mask that just barely hid his real self.

There were days, when he’d woken up on the road, he’d close his eyes, desperate for all of it to be a dream – only to realize that he couldn’t avoid the truth, that this was his life. This was who he was, and he felt like a stranger to himself.

He was used to it now, really, he was. He had to be, didn’t he?  He probably wouldn’t take a cure if it was offered to him, not anymore. Not with all these people depending on him. But every time he looked at Liam, he wondered if the boy hated him just as much for taking that away from _him_ as Scott hated Peter. The notion that Peter hadn’t asked, hadn’t cared enough to ask, never sat well with him.

Just like the question of what and whom he’d be, if it weren’t for Peter, if Peter hadn’t Bitten him.

Peter was smirking over something. Scott wanted to ask him what was going on, but if he did, he'd probably regret it. That's the thing with Peter: the more useful he seemed, the more dangerous he was. His silver tongue made it so that he could talk almost anyone into anything. Made them think he could be trusted. Scott knew better.

Peter loved playing at being the one in charge. Scott was half convinced that that was half the reason he’d agreed to come with him in the first place.  Peter claimed that he had always been the Alpha, but Scott doubted that Peter even knew what it _meant_ to be an Alpha. Oh, Peter knew that the Alpha-spark made him more powerful. He knew that as an Alpha he'd be stronger, faster, and heal at a more accelerated rate. He knew that it would make him the head of a Pack, and, to Peter, all that meant was _power_.

He didn’t have a clue just how powerless being an Alpha made you, and he never would.

His breath froze in his throat as a buzz started filling the room. It was time for the auction to really get going. Scott stood still beside Peter’s chair and forced himself to stay in place as the auctioneer’s attendants rolled a cage up on stage.  The man’s accent rolled heavily in his words as he carefully pulled up the cover hiding the cage’s content.

It was a little girl, seven or eight years old, pig tails and big, tearful eyes, dressed up in a white shift that made her look even smaller than she was. A young raiju – still young enough to be trained, or so the auctioneer said. No one mentioned what the little girl could be ‘trained’ for.

Every nerve inside of Scott told him to get up, jump the stage and get the little girl out of there and bring her to safety. To protect her like no one had protected him. But if he did that, their mission would fail, and far more people, other innocents, would pay the price.  When did it become alright to choose which innocent deserved to be saved more?

It was a choice he had to make as Alpha, to pick his priorities. He hated every second of it.

“So you’re going to let that old man have her. He’s already licking his lips at what he can do to her.”

Scott shivered. He didn’t answer. The worst part is that Peter couldn’t care less about the little girl, or any of the other people sold on that stage. Peter was far more interested in seeing Scott squirm. Every sense told Scott that Peter was enjoying his reaction. It made him nauseous.

He had to sit just as still as several other supernatural beings were brought onto the stage and sold. Each one terrified, confused, and begging for answers. All he could do was send out a message to Stiles and the others, while pretending to take notes for Peter. He prayed that the pack would be able to stop anyone trying to get out with live merchandise.  

When the auction finally got to the main item of the night, Scott was a bundle of nerves, wrapped under tight control, ready to boil.

Peter did the bidding, while Scott kept an eye on who they were bidding up against. It was as expected. Some representatives of Monroe tried to join in, but they were soon outbid. If they’d known what this specific type of wolfsbane could be used for, Monroe herself would be here, as would the entire organization’s funding. Scott felt a bit of relief that they’d gotten lucky.

Peter still couldn’t outbid the others. A certain Romanian magnate had tripled the last amount that they’d been ready to hand out. Scott wondered if the man even realized what he was bidding on. He had almost been shocked to find Peter willing to follow up after, knowing that anything above the budget they had would have to come from his own account.

But then, Peter really hated losing.

“We just lost, you idiot,” Peter hissed at Scott when he wasn’t upset.

“I didn’t expect us to win the bid.”

Peter stared at him.

“Peter, some of these guys make _you_ look like a pauper.”

Scott collected Peter’s papers, the cards for the other lesser items they’d bid on, just to keep people from getting suspicious.

“I just needed to know who did win the bid. So we can go after them. “

Peter stared at him, stunned.  “The auction house is too well defended, there’s no way we could have stolen the wolfsbane from them. The client though, his security is a lot easier to crack.”

“So why even pretend, why not just come in as a waiter?”

“Because they don’t hire from outside.”

Scott’s eyes followed the Romanian, making sure the man hadn’t made arrangements with some outside buyer. Peter got up when Scott made his move to follow the man.  Quickly pretending to be the one in charge, and joining the others in congratulating the Magnate on his win.

But of course, that’s when Peter took it just a step too far: Pushing himself into the Magnate’s immediate circle. In all fairness, it wasn’t his fault that one of the Romanian’s bodyguards recognized him. It wasn’t Peter’s fault that he happened to run into one of the few surviving assassins that had reacted to the Deadpool. And it sure as hell wasn’t Peter’s fault that the people in charge of the auction put the entire building on lock down.

Scott did the only thing he could do, he grabbed the box of wolfsbane from the lucky winner and ran like their lives depended on it, because of course they did. Peter was only a few steps behind him. Scot tried to remember the estate’s plans from all the times they’d gone over it before they’d left.  

They couldn’t go up, they’d be shot before they even got close, so instead he lead them down, to the safest place he could find, and prayed that Peter would follow him inside.

He managed to slam the door closed, before the first of their pursuers could even come close. Scott could hear them talking behind the door. One of the smarter of their pursuers brought up that the room was an old dungeon with a solid steel door.  

“Why don’t we just leave them there, let them starve?”

“Are you serious, do you know how expensive the stuff in there is?”

“We could gas them out, force them to come out running.”

Scott froze when he realized what he was going to happen, ready to be prepared for it when he heard someone bring up something metallic, some kind of cannister of gas.

Peter was undoing his shirt button, fussing with it, right before he finally gave in and removed his vest and used it to keep the gas from creeping in underneath the door. Scott didn’t know much about fashion, but he knew enough about Peter to know that the vest probably cost more than Mom used to earn in an entire week. Scott checked one last time for ways out or into the room, if the plans they’d bought were correct, there shouldn’t be any.

Peter lounged on one of the boxes spread across the room, while Scott began pacing around. His claws scratching over the surface of the wolfbane cannister. Scott could smell Peter’s annoyance at that, and felt oddly pleased. It was childish and immature, but when dealing with Peter, he’d take any small pleasure he could get.

“I do hope that the others know to come find us some time soon.”

Peter sounded so calm that Scott almost wanted to tell him that they wouldn’t have a clue, just to see if he could stir up the older man a bit.

He didn’t.

“Stiles knows to bring in the others if we’re not at the rendezvous point in two hours.”

“Which means that Derek or Malia will probably come storming in within the hour.”

The plan was airtight, and if it wasn’t, Lydia would probably get the Pack moving even faster. She just knew enough to keep them from sending in support too quick.

Being an Alpha was _responsibility_. It was a burden that you took on so others wouldn’t have to carry it. The strength and power that came with being an Alpha were meant to help you _carry_ that burden. They were meant to help you keep going when the weight got to be too much. They _weren’t_ meant to be lorded over your Pack, or used to _control_ them. A Pack wasn’t a tool to be used at your own leisure.

“Malia seemed happy last night.”

Scott understood what Peter was hinting at. It was a silly thing, but Peter didn’t get it. All Peter saw was that Malia had been dancing with another guy last night. Peter didn’t realize that just because Scott and she had broken up, it didn’t mean that he had stopped loving her and that he wasn’t happy that she was happy.

“I guess that’s why you took _me_ instead of her. You didn’t want to be locked in a room with her, smelling like some … _stranger.”_

Scott almost burst out laughing. Did Peter really think he was jealous?

He tested the wall with his hand, trying to sense cracks or hidden entrances. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been surprised by a door being where there wasn’t supposed to be one.

“I wonder if she slipped him the tongue. If she bit his lips.  Maybe let her hand slide down his pants.” 

Scott's eyebrows rose to almost Derek levels of intensity. Peter had to really be desperate to get a response for him to be that crude. “Peter, do you really spend so much time wondering about your daughter’s sex-life?”

Scott wasn’t even facing Peter, but he could hear the other man’s heart skip for a second.  Anticipation or embarrassment? He wasn’t quite sure.

“And you don’t?”

Scott didn’t answer. He could practically smell Peter’s certainty that he could do and say whatever he wanted, and Scott wouldn’t lash out at him.

“Ah, I forget that you’re _Scott McCall,_ our _Lord and Savior_. So selfless that you’d roll over and let Malia and her beau use you as a fur rug if it meant keeping them _happy.”_

It hit harder than Scott wanted it to. While the break-up had been mutual, Scott missed having Malia in his bed, though he’d realized what he missed was the _companionship_ , more than anything else. And he still _had_ that. He always would.

He and Malia had both needed someone to be there, someone to hold onto and cling to when they felt lost. But they hadn’t been in love. Scott knew Malia deserved better than to be with someone that didn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved. Just as he knew that he deserved the same.

“So what will happen, when Malia and the others attack?” Peter asked.

“We’ll find out. They’ll get here soon enough.”

“But what if you’re wrong? What will you do if your ‘plan’ doesn’t work out like you want it to? What will you say when some lucky bastard puts a bullet in my daughter’s head, all because you wanted to play at being a leader?”

Scott closed his eyes. What Peter had described was a fear that clung to him on every mission, and not just for Malia. Every time he ordered one of his pack into danger, knowing they might not return, it settled into his gut. But that feeling, too, was part of the burden of being an Alpha.

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it, Scott? To hide behind your moral virtue, sit atop your mighty pillar, and judge the rest of us for all our failings? All the while _you_ let your pet hunter do your killings _for_ you, and hide from your own hypocrisy. You pretend that you’re some pure, innocent snowflake who’d never harm a soul, while you let others carry the blood on their hands for you.”

Scott’s claws bit into his palm, but he didn’t allow them to break skin, knowing the smell of blood was something that Peter would notice.

“We can’t all be perfect little angels, especially when some of us have to get our hands bloody sometimes. Sometimes you have to _lose_ control to gain it. But, then, that’s something you’ll never understand, isn’t it?”

Scott shivered. He knew Peter would make the same mistake he always did. To assume that he was several steps ahead, planning for something that didn’t even enter Scott’s mind.

"You mean like the lie you told Derek?” he whispered, careful about the air he let in.  “The one you still keep up?  That your trauma made you kill Laura? Did you _lose control_ to gain the Alpha power?"

"I avenged my family with her power!"

"The only person you avenged, Peter, was _yourself."_

"As if you, of all people, would know _me_. You, the idiot goodie two shoes who got _lucky,_ crossing my path when I needed a Beta. If it weren't for me, for _my_ Bite, you'd be _nothing!"_

"You forget, Peter, I _do_ know you. You made sure of that."

Scott remembered the claws in his neck, Peter's roar in his ears. He remembered burning, he remembered pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before, he remembered _rage._ And he remembered waking up in the cold on the damp floor, still hearing the screams.

He understood alright.


End file.
